"Okay," I whispered at my reflection. "You can do this. It's just dinner."
Just dinner with four Alphas who wanted to court me. Four men who'd somehow slipped past my walls despite my best efforts to keep everyone out. Four people who made me feel things I'd convinced myself I was better off without.
My phone buzzed on the dresser.
Viola: How are you doing? Need a pep talk? I'm available for emergency phone calls until five forty-five.
I smiled despite my nerves, typing back:I'm getting dressed. Trying not to panic.
Her response was immediate: You looked amazing in that outfit. Remember that. And remember theyalready like you—they invited you over. Now stop spiraling and finish getting ready. You've got this.
I set the phone down and moved to my small jewelry box—a simple wooden thing Margaret had given me years ago. Inside was the sum total of my accessories: a pair of small silver hoop earrings, a delicate silver chain with a tiny leaf pendant, and Margaret's wedding ring that I couldn't bring myself to wear but also couldn't bear to part with.
The earrings felt right. Simple, understated, but a little bit of effort. I threaded them through my ears, then fastened the necklace. The leaf pendant settled just above my collarbone, barely visible but there. A small reminder that I was someone who grew things, who nurtured life, who had value beyond what anyone else decided.
The boots came last. I'd been worried they'd pinch or rub, but they felt like butter-soft leather against my feet and ankles. Comfortable enough to walk in, nice enough to look intentional. Perfect.
I checked the clock again: Five Twenty-Three.
Time to deal with Trinity's gift.
I'd left the box in the spare room, not wanting it anywhere near my daily life. Now I retrieved it, along with the photos Viola had taken. The pack needed to see this, needed to understand what they were potentially dealing with by being associated with me.
The dead plant still looked as malevolent as it had yesterday morning—blackened, withered, deliberately killed. I wrapped it back in the tissue paper and sealed the box, then placed it and the printed photos in a canvas bag. Not exactly the kind of thing you brought to a first dinner, but necessary.
My stomach churned with anxiety as I looked around my cabin. Everything was in order—dishes done, surfaces clean, nothing that required my immediate attention. No excuse tostay home. I grabbed my keys, my phone, and the canvas bag, then stood by the door for a long moment. This was it. The moment where I either walked out the door and take another step forward, or I text Oliver with some excuse and retreat back into my comfortable, lonely safety.
One step at a time, everyone kept saying.
So I took one step. Then another. Out the door, down the porch steps, to my truck. Each movement felt both monumental and mundane. By the time I was sitting in the driver's seat with the engine running, I was shaking slightly, adrenaline and anxiety mixing in my veins.
The drive to the pack's property took less than three minutes—close enough that I could probably walk it if I ever wanted to, though the thought of being that accessible made my anxiety spike. As I turned down their gravel drive, I could see the farmhouse lit from within, warm golden light spilling from the windows into the early evening dusk.
It looked welcoming. Like the kind of place where people gathered and belonged, but didn't have to be alone if they didn't want to be. I parked beside what I now recognized as Levi's truck, Garrett's blue one, and Micah's darker vehicle. Oliver's was probably in the garage or around back. Four trucks for four Alphas, and now my old pickup joined them like it had any right to be here.
For a moment, I just sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to breathe through the anxiety pressing against my ribs. Through the kitchen window, I could see movement—someone passing by, the light shifting. They were in there, probably making final preparations, maybe feeling their own nerves about tonight.
That thought helped somehow. The idea that I wasn't the only one who might be nervous, who might be hoping this went well, who might be taking a risk by being here. I climbed out ofthe truck before I could talk myself into leaving. The evening air was cool and carried the scent of pine and something cooking—meat on a grill, herbs, the warmth of fresh bread. My stomach reminded me I'd barely eaten all day, too anxious to manage more than a few bites of the sandwich Viola had insisted I order.
The gravel crunched under my boots as I walked toward the porch, each step feeling both too fast and too slow. I could hear voices now, low and masculine, mixed with occasional laughter. Pack sounds. Home sounds. The kind of casual, comfortable interaction I'd denied myself for five years.
I climbed the porch steps, the canvas bag with Trinity's box feeling heavier with each step. This wasn't exactly romantic dinner conversation—showing them evidence of harassment and threats. But they needed to know. Especially if Trinity was escalating.
My hand hovered over the doorbell for a moment. I could still leave. Could still send a text apologizing for the short notice and drive home to my safe, solitary cabin.
Instead, I pressed the button.
The doorbell chimed inside—a warm, welcoming sound—and immediately the voices stopped. I heard footsteps approaching, multiple sets, and my heart rate kicked up another notch. The door swung open, and Oliver stood there, his blue eyes brightening when he saw me.
"Daphne," he said, and the warmth in his voice made something in my chest loosen. "You came."
"I said I would," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt. I tried to not let my nerves show but as his eyes softened, I knew the effort was in vain, he could tell.
"I know. But I'm still glad." He stepped back, holding the door wider. "Come in. Please."
I crossed the threshold, and immediately the scent of the house wrapped around me—four distinct Alpha scents mixingtogether to create something that was uniquely pack. Oliver's pine and woodsmoke with a mix of rum. Garrett's cedar warmth. The sharp rain-and-green that was Micah. And something crisp and clean that must be Levi, mixed with bread and herbs and cooking food.
It should have been overwhelming. Four Alphas in one enclosed space, their combined presence filling every corner. But instead, it felt... welcoming. Like walking into warmth after being out in the cold.
